


The Knight and the Angel

by writingramblr



Category: Sin City (2005)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Sexual Content, basically my version of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basin City, a quiet quaint little town by day, dark and dangerous crime haven by night. In Marv's Diner, Nancy Callahan warms customers during the day with her smile and makes sure they're taken care of. By Night, she works an entirely different crowd. John Hartigan, decorated cop and war hero finds himself drawn to her, and he's not sure why she's suddenly started to appear in his dreams. Sin City AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

**Author's Note:**

> So of course, as is usually the case, this story was supposed to be a short drabble inspired by a tumblr post. But NOOO, it wouldn't stay nice and short and tidy. It got waaay long. So this is the first chapter! I decided to join Ao3 to post my more...unconventional works. It's basically a re-telling of their John and Nancy's story, with Dwight and Gail and even Shellie popping in as more important characters. It's also going to end up following most of the comic story, at least for Nancy and Hartigan. Don't throw stuff please! And if you like it, please drop a comment.

The bright sunshine broke through the gloom inside Nancy Callahan's bedroom, and was even enough to wake her from her deep sleep. The eye mask she wore to help her sleep was pitch black silk, but was no match for the spring sun.

She sat up slowly, and groaned slightly, her back ached from the strange way she had slept the night previous it seemed.

She pushed her sandy blond bangs out of her eyes and glanced over at her clock on the bedside table. Just past eight o'clock. Today was her short day, she only worked from ten to five in Marv's Diner, and then her second job from six to two tonight. Her birthday was only four days away, and she didn’t know how she felt about turning 21. She wished her parents could be there, to give her a hug and tell her they were proud of her. If they knew what her second job was however, perhaps they wouldn’t have been.

Nancy was an orphan and from an early age had learned to be independent and fend for herself.

Her family, including her parents and baby brother had died nearly eight years previous in a car crash. Hit straight on by a drunk driver. At least, that's what the newspapers had said. “Hit and Run” to be exact. Her father had been well respected, and her mother had been the guiding light at the Basin City public Elementary school.

Though Nancy always tried to remain positive, she couldn't help wondering now and again if her family's death hadn't been a complete accident.

The most powerful family in Basin City, the Roarks, was well known for using their power for more than just a few philanthropic ventures. But she couldn't ever know for certain.

That's what she thought at least.

***  
For a few moments, silence reigned in the room, then Nancy heard the front door slam, and her roommate and friend Shellie could be heard, humming and shuffling across the kitchen floor. Nancy smiled and leapt out of bed, the smell of what Shellie had brought in the house filling her nostrils.

Freshly baked and glazed donuts.

"Good morning Sweetie." Nancy called, and Shellie turned to grin mischievously at her friend,

"No need to suck up, I remembered your bear claw and jelly filled."

Nancy raised her eyebrows dramatically,

"Lemon jelly filled?"

Shellie nodded, and thrust the paper bag towards her,

"Feel free to look if you don't believe me."

Nancy shook her head,

"It's alright. I trust you." She tossed a wink in Shellie's direction and then turned away, flipping on the coffee machine and arranging their mugs in front of it.

"So, hazelnut or vanilla?"

Shellie pretended to think on it, her pretty face serious for a fraction of a minute,

"Hmm, I don't know. What goes better with a blueberry cake donut?" Her green eyes sparkled and she reached back to pull her dirty-blond hair into a ponytail.

Nancy held out the coffee mug, now full to the brim with the steaming caffeinated liquid,

"Let's go with vanilla to be safe. It goes with everything."

Shellie couldn't stand it any longer. She burst out laughing and in between giggles replied,

"Why on earth did you decide to buy flavored coffee? It's silly. You add flavor with sugar and creamer."

Nancy rolled her eyes, impatience with her uncreative roommate rising,

"I wanted to try them. So if you don't want it, don't drink it."

Shellie looked taken aback,

"Whoa tiger. What's wrong? You are usually pretty happy right after you wake up."

Nancy sighed and collapsed into a chair,

"I guess I'm just on edge. I get the feeling Dwight is probably planning something for my birthday, and you know I hate surprises."

Shellie stepped over and hugged her shoulders, bending close to meet her gaze,

"Don't worry. If I catch wind of anything, I'll make sure to insist he cancel them. I'll suggest letting you work the floor with me instead of the usual."

Nancy smiled weakly,

"Okay. Sounds good."

"Now, let's get you cheered up, and dig in, these little buggers have lived long enough."

Shellie glanced over at the bag of donuts and waggled her eyebrows.

"I won't argue with that."


	2. Meet John

Marv’s Diner sat on the outskirts of Basin City, the lighter side of town. The police station was also on the border of the dark city. Inside the city, around alleyways, and down concrete roads where the lights flickered, you could find anything.

Outside, where law and order still reigned, everyone felt safe. There was an unspoken law that though the Roarks were only just a family, nothing special, they had control of the inner city. Their reach went very far. Rumors were whispered, not very loud mind you, but still spoken, that they had mob connections, or even that they had aspirations to become a mob of Sin City. That was how the residents affectionately referred to it. In the inner city, prostitution, gangs, and clubs were the norm. Scandalizing for some sheltered outer city folks.

Once the lights went down in Sin City, anything could happen.

***

John Hartigan, decorated cop, and slightly scarred war veteran, greeted the day in a similar fashion, however his one morning habit was that of sitting up slowly, and sticking his feet out, feeling for the carpet. If he never reached it, he was able to ascertain he was likely still dreaming. That didn’t happen as often as it used to, when the nightmares were common, but now with his new medication, the dreams had become less jolting and other-worldly, and more frightening on an entirely new level.

Hartigan was a happily married man, and he and his wife Eileen had been trying to have children for many years. They lived alone in content, but she had never been opposed to the idea of the pitter-patter of little feet about the house someday.

For Hartigan, with retirement on the horizon, and a sizeable 401k to look forward to, becoming a father was slowly turning into more of a certainty than a maybe.

Despite being happily married, the most recent distraction of his life, besides worrying about children, was the possibility that he was turning into a dirty old man. He wasn’t that old. Barely in his fifties. Still perfectly able to raise children.

However, on his daily lunch break, he had started to notice a waitress in the diner he always went to. He knew it was as simple as changing venues. But he hated change.

“Rather like the average senior.” He thought to himself with amusement.

He liked his lunch, he liked being a regular customer, getting the perks, and besides, he was well known for being a good cop, as well as a good guy in general.

He knew he should just stop thinking about her and spend his lunch focused on his lunch.

If only it was that easy.

***

“Order up!” Goldie’s voice called, stirring Nancy from her daydreaming. She had been patiently standing by the order shelf, awaiting the completed ticket for her last few tables, when she heard the tell-tale door bell jingle. She glanced to the front of the diner, and beamed as she spotted her favorite customer.

In this business, you weren’t supposed to pick favorites. Any good tipper was someone to be pampered. However, Officer John Hartigan was easily the favorite of half the county.

Nancy scooped up the plates and quickly delivered them to their hungry customers, before brushing any stray strands of hair behind her ear, tugging on her ponytail, and stealthily blowing upwards to fluff her bangs as she whirled around to stand in front of the counter.

“Good afternoon officer, the usual?”

She asked him with a smile, one reserved just for him.

Normally, she used the perfected smile on her customers, and they all thought it was just for them. She never wanted for tips, whether it was here, or at her second job. It was the only reason she was able to still live in her family’s old house. That and the fact the Roarks had been very kind to her whilst she was still in primary school.

John Hartigan tugged at his coat collar, kept his worn, yet still handsome face downcast, and merely grunted in acknowledgement.

Nancy’s smile dimmed a few watts, but she shrugged it off, thinking perhaps he’d had a hard morning.

After she had gone into the kitchen, to place his special order, John sighed, and his head sunk into his hands.

He’d hated to act like that. Usually he could greet her with a smile, and the simple,

“Hey Nancy.”

Today, all of a sudden, with the phrase poised on his tongue, it turned sour in his mouth. So he had opted to say nothing. Why was this happening to him? He was not a cheater. But something happened to him around her. It was as if she brought a completely different man. A younger, perhaps even carefree guy, he could have been, if he hadn’t been worn down by the army and nearly three decades on the force. He shook his head, he was being ridiculous.

When Nancy returned with his order, he took his glass of iced tea from her with a grim smile, and met her curious stare, warm brown eyes colliding with icy blue,

“Thanks Nancy.”

“No problem John.”

Why did she have to say his name like that? As if the entire word was being caressed on the way out of her mouth? He frowned into the cold beverage, “What the hell is wrong with me?” he thought furiously, and he restrained himself from slamming the glass down. It still made a decently loud thunk as it met the marble countertop.


	3. A Good Listener

John Hartigan had been the officer in charge of the investigation of hit-and-run accident that had killed Nancy Callahan’s family. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. However, it had been such a tragic case; it was as if the memory was bleached of color, save Nancy’s golden hair.

She’d been so small, barely eleven years old, and after the chief of police had informed her what had occurred, as best he could explain it to a child, she had stood frozen, before flinging herself into Hartigan. She had clung to his waist, and sobbed quietly, with a strange dignity. It was still a mystery to him why she hadn’t been with her family. It seemed a school project had held her up at the library, and that was where the officers had retrieved her from.

John, who had little to no experience with children, had knelt down, pulled Nancy close, and gently stroked her hair, simply saying, “I’ll do whatever I can to find out who did this, and make sure they’re brought to justice.”

She had stepped back, held on to only his shoulder, her face streaked with tears, and said,

“Thank you Officer. You’d be my hero.”

He shook his head,

“John. Just call me ‘John’.”

She had nodded, and fallen back into his arms.

That night, he had been unsure about where she could stay, as any other family was in distant parts of the country, but remarkably, the police station had received a call from

Senator Roark, inviting little Nancy to stay with them, at least until she was ready to go home.

At the time Hartigan had accepted it as merely another benevolent gesture of the family, but now, knowing all that he did, and even more of what he suspected, he was almost certain there had been an ulterior motive for taking Nancy in.

***

Little did he know, but young Nancy had taken her own memory of that night, and locked it deep inside, and it was one of the few from after losing her family that she cherished. Though she remained a fountain of happiness and smiles while around the Diner, deep down, she was still conflicted and confused about many things, whether or not John Hartigan was her hero was not one of them.

He was the reason she looked forward to work every day, and missed it when she was off.

She knew very well he was a family man of his own, with the possibility of his own family around the corner, but she saw nothing wrong with adoring from afar.

Like a famed celebrity, she was merely his fan. As a child, she had written to him, simple missives asking about how he was, informing him of her progress in school. He had replied to each one faithfully. She had stopped once she turned thirteen, and received one in reply from his wife. She had politely requested she stop contacting him, as it was no longer appropriate.

Nancy had been only slightly hurt, as she had begun to finally socialize with other kids her age once starting high school, and by the time she graduated, John Hartigan was far from her mind. Until her first day on the job at Marv’s Diner, when he walked in; black leather coat swirling about his knees in the wind, his large strong hands moving to flip up his collar to stave off the cold wind, and the same ‘X’-shaped scar above his right eyebrow, along with his twinkling blue eyes, she had gasped aloud, nearly dropping her full tray of food and drink in her surprise.

For the first few days, he had not recognized her, so engrossed in feeding himself; he had not glanced at her nametag. She now realized she hadn’t in fact had a nametag until her second week of work, so she hardly blamed him.

The first time he saw it, and looked up to scan her face, he had appeared a bit surprised himself.

He had muttered quietly,

“Little Nancy Callahan? Skinny little thing, all grown up.”

She had smiled tentatively at him, and nodded towards his gleaming badge,

“Hello Officer. Long time no see.”

He had nodded, gulping down the last few bites of his food, and then stood abruptly, slapping down a twenty, more than enough to cover his lunch, before muttering a bit louder,

“Good to see you Nancy. You take care.”

He was gone in a swish of his coat, and the jingle of the door bell.

She bit back a smile; he would be seeing her a bit more often than he thought.

***

When Nancy finished counting her tips from the departed tables, she turned to see John, staring at the counter, seemingly lost in thought. His light blond hair was windswept, and she felt her fingers twitch with the urge to go over and flatten it out a bit.

“What a wicked thing to think,” She couldn’t help chastising herself.

He sat up straighter, and pulled out his wallet, preparing to call for the bill, and likely pay in exact change, as usual.

She hurried over, and pulled out his ticket, opened her mouth to give him the total, and was stunned as he reached across, and plucked the paper from her hand,

“I remember. Here, keep the change.” Every day he overpaid her, and every day she tried to protest, but he would just shake his head, and mumble something about service workers being underpaid.

“Marv pays us fairly.” She would argue, and he would grin, and throw a glance towards the back room, where Marv’s office lay, saying,

“Still, a nice pretty girl like you, needs nice things.”

Hartigan convinced himself that it was how he thought of her, just another pretty girl in his lunchtime hangout spot. No one special. He tried very hard to deny the truth.

***

John didn’t know the half of it. She didn’t need this waitressing job to survive, it just paid for gas for her car, and extra things. Her second job was the one that paid the rent and kept her warm during the winter.

“Thank you John. You’re very kind.”

Today, he diverted from the usual script, and shook his head,

“No. You’re the kind one. Always have a smile for everyone, even me. A pathetic old man, who can’t seem to get his priorities straight.”

Nancy frowned, and leaned over the counter, hoping John might help share what exactly was causing his distress.

She could see it in his forehead, a baffling case would never show up there, it would be in the corners of his mouth, and he’d wear a permanent grimace, but personal issues, problems at home only showed up above his eyes.

"Tell me. You seem to have everything in order.”

John rubbed his face, his eyes betraying him as they lurched towards Nancy’s uniform neckline, straying dangerously below her delicate collarbones, to the possibility of cleavage straining to escape.

He frowned, and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut,

“I don’t want to burden you with my problems Nancy, I’m sure you have a hundred folks in here all day trying to unload on you.”

He winced at the wording of his sentence, and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she didn’t seem to notice the subtle and accidental innuendo.

Nancy shrugged, she’d noticed it, but in her other line of work, it came with the territory, however, the fact Hartigan had said it, made her cheeks heat up slightly with embarrassment.

“It’s alright. I’m a good listener. Give me a call if you ever need to talk with a friend.” She scribbled her home number on his ticket, and gave him an earnest smile, not the full wattage, but not fake either.

John finally looked back up at her, and was unable to argue as she pushed the paper into his hand, her small one gently patting his larger one, before pulling away, and flattening both hands down her apron, getting rid of any possible wrinkles.

“You have a good afternoon officer, drive safe.”

He nodded,

“I will. I hope the rest of the day is quiet for you.”

He stood, pushed his barstool back under the counter, and was halfway towards the door when Nancy spoke again,

“It’s my short day today, so even if it’s not quiet, it won’t wear me out too much.”

There was no decent reply he could have made to that statement, so he merely nodded, and continued his way out the door.


	4. Dishonerably Discharged

The pounding of the bass against the wall, only slightly shook the counter below Nancy’s feet as she danced. It helped her keep a rhythm, and even above the chatter she could make out the words to the song.

“I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system go, welcome to the new age, to the new age,--”

The rest disappeared in a cloud of smoke as her eyes opened, finding Dwight in the back of the room, nodding approvingly at her improvised moves. The crowd seemed to love it, and she carefully picked up the tossed, folded, and wadded bills that had landed around her feet on the small stage.

It was treacherous walking in such high heeled boots, but without them, she looked younger than she was, and no amount of makeup could increase ones age like a few inches of height.

She lifted a hand to her forehead, wiping her sweat soaked bangs out of her eyes, and she smiled at Dwight, briefly showing him the wad of cash in hand, before quipping,

“Now, you know, this could be a whole month’s rent?”

Dwight’s handsome face broke into a grin,

“Good one Nance. Though I know you’ll be sure to spend it on a few drinks for the boys before you go home. You know they love that.”

He threw an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her in for a friendly hug.

Nancy nodded in agreement,

“Of course. But that’s only on Monday night’s, to ease the pain of starting back at work for them all.”

Dwight cocked a dark eyebrow at her,

“You know hardly any of those men have legitimate  businesses, which means they don’t adhere to a Monday through Friday work schedule.”

Nancy shrugged, and tried to stifle the shiver of fear that ran through her, but Dwight could feel it, being as close as he was.

“It’s okay Nance. You know I would never let any of them near you, much less hurt you.”

She nodded slowly, and then flipped the conversation to a more positive note,

“So have you found a new bouncer yet? One who is good looking enough to draw the right customers and yet tough enough to keep out the wrong ones?”

Dwight smirked,

“Now you know interviewing employees is somewhat of a specialty for me, but truthfully, no, I haven’t found the right girl yet. She’s out there somewhere though, I can feel it.”

Being an old friend since high school, Nancy had gotten the opportunity to skip the usual ‘interview’ process, which mostly entitled sleeping with Dwight, and being scored in the morning. He respected her enough, and knew he didn’t deserve her, but the fact she drew in so much business with her dancing, meant he couldn’t afford to not keep her, innocent though she was.

“Do you have any super special plans for your birthday coming up? I could give you the night off if you like.”

Nancy shook her head,

“No plans. I don’t mind working. Consider anything I make that night your present. I won’t be buying anyone drinks but me and Shellie.”

She grinned up at him, and he chuckled, nudging her shoulder gently, before giving her a playful shove towards the back,

“Alright, you go have some water, and then it’s back to work. You’ve still got a few more songs to go.”

Nancy nodded, and swatted Dwight back, before walking over to the back room where the mini fridge for all performers was. She brought her own bottled water, as she was particular about the brand she drank. She glanced at the clock above the dressing table, a quarter to one. She tried to stifle a yawn, but it came anyway. At least the night was nearly over, and then she could look forward to a whole day to sleep and catch up on housework.

***

"Dishonorably discharged?"

Dwight stared at the intriguing woman who sat across the desk from him. Merely a day after waxing poetic to Nancy about finding a new bouncer, and here she sat. At least he hoped she would be the one.

She was stunning, with skin the color of creamy milk chocolate, and dark raven hair, pulled up into a tight bun. Her piercing brown eyes watched him closely, and he fought to keep his face neutral. She was dressed rather scantily for one to be applying for the bouncer position, but he wasn't arguing. She was very easy on the eyes.

"What did you say your name was again?"

Dwight glanced over her resume, hoping to spot her name before she said it.

"Gail."

Dwight cocked a dark eyebrow at her,

"Gail, what?"

"Just Gail."

Dwight frowned, and then shrugged.

"I guess it doesn't matter. Most of my girls just go by first names anyway."

Gail smirked,

"Oh, well I am not applying to be just another one of 'your girls,' I was under the impression this was a higher position."

She sat up straighter in her chair and looked as if she meant to stand, but he stood first,

"Please. I'm sorry. You're right. But I do take care of my people. Make no mistake. I'm not a dictator sort of employer. You'd be in good hands."

Gail frowned,

"Oh I'm sure. Listen, the reason I was discharged, it's completely idiotic. The Corps didn't respect my adult decisions. So I got angry and let them do what they wanted. But I won't sugar coat it for you. If you don't think you can handle me working for you and not willing to take bullshit, then we're done here."

Dwight was stunned. The woman was wild. Fascinating. She was like a warrior woman, a Valkyrie. Independent and fiercely proud of it.

Dwight stuck out his hand, and she glanced down at it, wary.

"I'd like to offer you the position you applied for, if you still want it."

Gail hesitated, then shook his hand,

"Okay. I'll give it a shot."

"Great. I think we'll get along. Lemme introduce you to everyone this evening. Say around quarter to ten?"

Gail nodded,

"Sounds good. Later."

Dwight watched her go in silence, feeling slightly nervous about her. He wasn't going to press the usual initiation; he figured he might end up with a few broken bones if he even mentioned it.


	5. Dangerous Developments

Hartigan couldn’t sleep. His mind was running a mile a minute. Seeing Nancy in his dreams so many nights recently had triggered the old sixth sense deep down that had made him such a good soldier way back when and a good cop more recently.

He decided first thing tomorrow he would pull any and all unsealed files about the Callahan tragedy and any possible associations with the Roarks.

As he lay in bed, beneath the slowly spinning ceiling fan, with Eileen beside him, sleeping soundly, he tried to tame his thoughts as they turned from protective of Nancy to possibly dangerous. Not to her by any means, but to his marriage. He had eaten a pleasant dinner with his wife, and they had skirted the topic of kids, which she had seemed very eager to discuss recently, but he was glad for the respite.

He turned over, and slid an arm around her waist protectively, and closed his eyes, willing the sandman to send him off to a safe and dreamless sleep.

***  
The next day at work, bright and early, before any other assignments crossed his desk, John made his way to the filing room. He left his leather jacket on the back of his desk chair, as it was usually stuffy inside the room. It was also unseasonably warm outside, for spring in Nevada.

When he found the files he was looking for, and then some, he carefully shut the drawers and locked them, and returned to his office.

He set the papers down and glanced about, making sure no one was watching him, and closed the door to his office.

He collapsed into his chair and began poring over the files.

After almost half an hour of reading, he finally reached a slim folder marked, “Confidential.”

From the Roarks file, it was certainly important.

As he read through the pages, his frown grew more and more pronounced. Despite all outward appearances, it seemed the Roarks had an ulterior motive for sheltering Nancy. The land beneath the Callahan’s home was a decent sized reserve of oil!

With the rest of her family gone, she was the lone inheritor to any and all oil profits. However, it seemed she would not become aware of the existence of such wealth until she reached the age of 21.

Inside her file there was a note that suggested the house was being surveyed at least once a month, and it was known she was letting a friend room with her.

John did not like what he had discovered. It grew worse. According to the confidential file in the Roarks folder, they had known about the oil before the Callahan’s accident, placing them under John’s list of prime suspects. He had always thought their death was a little convenient, and the fact the driver of the other car had never been caught, and merely written off as just a drunk lunatic had never sat well with him.

It seemed if none of the Callahans had remained to claim the land, it would automatically pass to the city. A city which the Roarks practically controlled!

John stood up in his chair, the legs screeching on the ground, Nancy’s birthday was only two days away, if the Roarks planned to let her take claim of the land, then dispose of her like they could have done to the rest of her family, she was in terrible danger.

John had a sneaking suspicion with Junior Roark’s known penchant for crime, the only reason that he had not ever been caught or convicted being his daddy’s pull in the city, perhaps he would be the one sent to take care of Nancy.

Suddenly John had a lot more to worry about than when he would retire and become a father.

He needed to return the secure files without being seen, and somehow warn Nancy.

***

Only Shellie seemed not to like Gail. Nancy had found her to be nice that first night, if a little wild and easily angered by a guy touching any of the girls. Dwight had to assure her touching wasn’t illegal, but if it got out of hand, then she could throw the bums out.

The second night of Gail’s employ, and the eve before Nancy’s birthday, Shellie had been the one egging on Nancy and then having to listen, tonight, Nancy realized she needed to repay the favor.

After she finished her dance and was headed backstage to cool down, she caught Shellie while her tray was empty.

“What’s wrong? You look kinda mad.”

Shellie frowned, and tried to avoid her gaze, her black lined eyes scanning the front of the room and everywhere possible,

“I’m fine. Dwight sure seems to like Gail. Which is great. I’m happy for them.”

Nancy smiled, she knew about Shellie’s crush on their boss. The initiation had gotten to her a bit more than most.

“Shells. They barely know each other. He also told me he didn’t even bring up, the thing. He knows she’s a bit like me, she doesn’t roll like that. Stop worrying. He’s still a free agent. What you ought to do is tell him how you feel.”

Shellie suddenly looked frightened, her green eyes widened, and her entire face resembled that of a child’s,

“What if he fires me?”

Nancy put her arm around her friend,

“He won’t do that, and if he does, I’ll quit. He wouldn’t want that.” She smiled and squeezed her arm, so that Shellie was pulled in close,

“You’re beautiful, smart, and quite funny at times, he can’t say no to at least one date.”


	6. A Sure Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg apologizes out the wazoo. I forgot i even posted this, and now that A Dame to Kill for is almost out i know you all need your Nancy/Hartigan fix...or is that just me?

The final two days had passed almost in a blur and John woke up in a cold sweat, realizing with horror as he gazed over at the clock by the bed, it was Nancy’s birthday.

Eileen was already gone, as it was nearly half past eleven, and for once, he was off this Saturday, and when he wasn’t working, he let her have a day for herself. Actually everyday was like that for her, but today she didn’t need to make him breakfast, or do his laundry, he was able to do it all himself.

Once all those household chores had been completed, he staggered into the shower. The hot water pounded directly on his neck and momentarily relieved his massive headache. Unfortunately the hot water also lulled him into a false sense of peace, and when he was peaceful, his thoughts turned to Nancy, and how he would plan to be able to save her. Seconds before those thoughts condemned him to spend the rest of the precious minutes under the water defiling the purity of it; he reached over and flipped the knob to cold. He groaned at the temperature change, but it was a necessary evil.

 

He climbed out of the shower, wiped the steam off the mirror with his hand, and stared at himself in the mirror. His once mostly blond hair had streaks of white in it, and even his stubble had a silver tint. He looked his age more than ever, even if he didn’t feel it yet.

 

“You’re a sick man. A sick dirty old man.” He muttered to his reflection, shaking his head in disgust, and after wrapping his waist in a towel, exited the bathroom to find something to wear. He needed to go see Nancy at the diner, to make sure she was still alright, and if possible, find a way to warn her of the looming danger.

He chose dark navy slacks, a light blue shirt, and his usual leather work suspenders. He didn’t need them, but they contrasted well with the blue. He hesitated, but then reluctantly put on a silver and black striped tie. He had to still look professional, even on his day off.

She might be more likely to heed his advice if he looked the part of the white knight.

He slung his black jacket about his shoulders and was out the door, wincing at the sound of his stomach growling and churning.

It was almost his normal lunchtime, and with all his work at home he’d done, he had forgotten to grab anything for breakfast.

***

“Happy Birthday to you!”

Nancy beamed and felt her cheeks heat up. It was so sweet of everyone in the diner to sing for her. Goldie held out the single chocolate cupcake with the glowing candle, and whispered,

“Make a wish honey.”

Nancy closed her eyes tight, wished hard, and leaned forward, blowing out the flame with a single breath. She had wished with all her might that somehow, things would turn out all right with John. Against all odds, that she could have her fairytale ending with him. She wasn’t stupid. She knew it was crazy, ridiculous, and impossible. If she could just have a kiss, she would be happy. Just a kiss from her hero.

When she opened her eyes, Goldie had set the plate with her treat down, everyone had dispersed back to their areas, and the sound of the door bell jingled. She turned to see her wish possibly coming true, right before her eyes.

“John.” She breathed, and he strode over to her, stopped right in front of the counter, and took her hand from where it was lying beside the plate.

“Nancy, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Nancy smiled, her heartbeat speeding up, and she felt tears in her eyes, as she nodded. She only paused for a second, looked around to meet Goldie’s gaze, and when she shrugged and jerked her head in John’s direction, giving her silent approval, Nancy stepped out from behind the counter and gestured to an empty booth,

“Let’s sit down.”

John nodded, and pretended not to notice how beautiful Nancy looked with her hair down, loose waves of sandy blond hair resting on her shoulders, long enough to fall so far as to brush over her chest. He also tried not to notice how she leaned close to him, even though she was at least two feet away, sitting opposite him in the booth. It was as if she was being drawn to him. What she didn’t know was that he felt the same pull, and it was killing him to resist. He finally found his voice, and said gruffly,

 

“Happy Birthday Nancy.”

 

John was trying to avoid looking directly at her. It was rather like staring into the sun, after a while it became too painful.

Nancy frowned on the inside at the lack of emotion in the well wishes, but she smiled outwardly, and thanked him.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” she sat poised on the edge of her seat, listening intently.

John leaned back against his seat, and cleared his throat, before focusing on her again.

“It’s about your birthday actually.”

Nancy’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into her bangs, and she hoped that the sound of her heartbeat once again speeding up wasn’t audible to the man across from her,

“Did you want to make plans for later? Because I’m actually working all day…” her voice trailed off as the doorbell jingled again, and she saw a familiar head of blond curls and cheeky green eyes looking her way.

“Shellie!” Nancy cried out, and she leapt from the booth to hug her friend. Shellie pulled her away by her elbow, and jerked her head in Hartigan’s direction,

“Is that him? Cause damn. He is cute. For an old guy.” She smirked, and Nancy nudged her in the ribs.

“Shell! What a thing to say. He’s not old. And besides he’s married. He’s here on official business. Wishing me a happy birthday and trying to steal me away for debauchery.” Nancy’s voice fell to a hush and she mumbled the last half of the sentence, absentmindedly chewing on her lip, wishing her little fib was closer to the truth.

Shellie waggled her eyebrows suggestively,

“Oh really? Does he know about that last part? Be careful, you might give him a heart attack.”

Nancy rolled her eyes,

“Jeezus. Get lost. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you later.”

She made to shove Shellie back out the door, but she resisted,

“Is Dwight really making you work on your birthday?”

“No. I asked to work and he said he’d give me time and a half so I could buy myself something nice, from him.”

Shellie pursed her lips,

“Typical. He just lovesyou. . .-” When Nancy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, Shellie was quick to add,

“---Like a sister. I wish he’d spoil me with a temporary raise.”

 

Nancy winked at her,

 

“Just talk to him. I bet he would. Now get lost.”

 

Shellie waved goodbye and was out the door. Nancy giggled quietly and turned back to the booth. John was glancing at his watch, and looked slightly annoyed.

Nancy collapsed back into the booth,

“I’m so sorry about that. My roommate is an incorrigible nuisance sometimes. What were you saying?”

John shook his head, and waved a hand about,

“It’s fine. Truth be told, this is the wrong place to talk. Is there anywhere else we could go? Maybe later, once you get off work?”

Nancy gulped, and worried her bottom lip,

“Um. Once I get off here I have another job I have to go to.”

John’s eyebrows rose in surprise,

“Really? I didn’t know that. That wasn’t in the file.”

Nancy frowned, fully visible this time,

“What file? What are you talking about?”

“It’s something big. Something possibly life threatening. You’re in danger here. We need to get out of here, and go somewhere secure before I can say anything further.”

Nancy’s brown eyes went wide, he was scaring her. When he said something like that, she knew he wasn’t joking around.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

John laid a hand on her wrist gently; trying desperately to tell her with his eyes what he didn’t dare say aloud, ‘Mortal Danger.’

 

Nancy found herself losing sight of the rest of the diner, and all she could see and feel was his warm hand on hers, and his eyes locked in her gaze. Her sight strayed up to look at his scar, and she found herself wondering how it had happened. She wished she could touch it, and would it hurt if she did so? Then she would endeavor to make him forget the pain.

Before Hartigan could utter another word, the doorbell jingled a third time, and a tall dark haired man strode in. He walked towards the bar with such an imposing stance, Hartigan involuntarily reached his free hand down and over for his concealed gun, but when Nancy pulled away from him and began to climb out of the booth, he started, as if he had been in a daydream, and surprisingly she was embracing the man, then appeared to be scolding him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, and Dwight simply chuckled at her outraged expression. She looked rather sexy when she was mad. She was hardly threatening, like an aggravated kitten.

“Nancy. You didn’t think I forgot today was your birthday did you? I just wanted to come say hello, and reassure you there is truly no surprise party tonight.”

Nancy huffed and stomped her foot,

“You better not be lying. Shellie promised me she’d stop you if you dared attempt anything.”

John cleared his throat, and Nancy jumped slightly, her faux temper tantrum forgotten, and Dwight turned to lock eyes with the man, but before the air could be filled with too much testosterone, Nancy stepped between them.

“John, this is my friend Dwight McCarthy.” She hoped John would catch the emphasis.

Dwight didn’t dare glare at her for using his full name as Hartigan slid out of the booth to stand in front of him. Though he was only a couple inches shorter than Dwight, he was still an imposing figure.

“Officer Hartigan, Basin City PD.” John replied tersely, still wary of the dark haired man with whom Nancy was so familiar.

Dwight took the outstretched hand, and shook it, marveling at the man’s grip.

“It’s an honor to meet you sir. Always nice to meet an honest lawman. I’ve heard only good things about you.”

Nancy beamed at them both, and when they parted, she tried to once again look fierce at Dwight,

“Thanks for coming by.”

Dwight smirked again,

“No problem. So I’ll see you later?”

Nancy’s eyes widened and she jerked her head a fraction towards John, and Dwight shrugged,

“Okay then. You two enjoy your lunch. Or whatever. Bye Nancy.”

Nancy nodded, and mouthed after him,

‘Bye, thanks for nothing!’

John turned to her after Dwight had departed, and looked slightly hurt,

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Nancy whirled on him, and shook her head so roughly it caused her bangs to flutter in the created breeze.

“No! Definitely not. He’s Shellie’s boyfriend if anything.”

“Oh, I see. You two just seemed, familiar.”

Nancy shrugged,

“We know each other, and we’re friends.”

 

John tried to push down the ugly feeling that was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He had nothing to be jealous of. He also had no right to be jealous. If Nancy wanted to date someone her own age, good for her.

So why did he feel so rotten?

 

“Great. Listen, we need to talk. But I can see you need to get back to work. Please give me a call as soon as you get off.” John pulled out his wallet, and handed over one of his few old and worn out business cards, from when he had first joined the force, Eileen had been so proud of him, and insisted on making them.

 

Nancy took it from him, and rubbed her thumb across the soft printed surface,

“Of course. I will. Now, don’t worry about me. Thanks for coming by.”

 

“Be safe.” John raised a hand high enough to stroke her cheek, but he chickened out, and moved it to run his fingers through his hair, making it look windblown, and

 

Nancy tried to act like she hadn’t known what he wanted to do.

She watched him leave from behind the counter, and sighed heavily once he was out of sight.

 

“Honey, you’ve got it bad.”

 

Goldie’s voice startled her, and she blushed, turning to face her employer,

“No it’s not like that. He’s just a great man who was a hero to me when I was a kid. Right after my family was killed, he was there. He kept me from falling apart.”

 

Goldie grabbed Nancy’s chin, and forced her to meet her gaze,

“Don’t lie to me honey. I can see right through it. There’s something more there with that ‘great man’ than you’re willing to see. Look at me and Marv. It’s not exactly fairy tale stuff, but it’s real.”

 

Goldie pulled her close, and whispered in her ear,

“Go on. You take the rest of the afternoon off. It’s your birthday. Go do something fun.”

 

Nancy smiled, and nodded, fighting back tears. Goldie was almost her age, but was an awful lot like the mother she had grown up without.

“Thank you, and tell Marv thanks as well.”

Goldie nodded, and gave Nancy a playful shove,

“Go on, have some fun while you’re still young.”

She winked at her and Nancy giggled, scooping up her purse and heading out the door.

She had time to go home and get a shower before working at the club tonight, and she would make sure she looked flawless for her birthday dance.

 

***

Nancy stepped out of the shower, carefully scrunching her hair with a white fluffy towel. She had a second towel wrapped around her tucked in under her arm. She padded out to her bedroom, and was surprised to see a small flat box sitting on her comforter.

She glanced around, and out into the living room, spotting Shellie watching some trash tv, and she cocked an eyebrow, jerking a thumb towards the package.

“Is this from you?”

Shellie smirked, and her green eyes twinkled impishly,

“Maaaybe. Depends if you like it or not. If you don’t, it’s from Dwight. If you do, it’s from me.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and turned around, quickly flipping off the lid. Inside the white tissue paper lay two half gloves, or more accurately sleeves, as they were fingerless, and simply slipped over one’s wrists. They were black leather studded with silver, and a cream colored fringe was seamlessly stitched on the side.

Nancy looked up from the box to see Shellie watching her, leaning against the doorframe.

“Whatcha think?”

“They’re beautiful.”

Shellie smiled shyly,

“I thought you’d say that. They’ll go perfectly with your outfit tonight.”

Nancy nodded, blinking back tears. It was such a sweet gesture.

“Aw don’t cry. C’mere you.” Shellie threw her arms open wide and Nancy fell into them, hugging her friend tight.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

Nancy pulled back and her eyes went wide,

“I hope my hair isn’t too frizzy from being in this towel so long!” she leaned over and quickly unraveled it, as Shellie watched in amusement.

“So dramatic. Who are you expecting tonight anyway? Your old man friend?”

Nancy gaped at her roommate, and shook her head rapidly,

“No! I hope he never sees me there. I prefer seeing him at the diner. And he’s not old. Stop saying that.”

The excitement from Shellie’s present and the urgency of getting ready for work had distracted Nancy so much that she had forgotten the card John had given her, it lay inside her purse, but she would not notice it again until she had already arrived at work, much too late to call him.


	7. In the Wrong Part of Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slowly veering back to movie plot

John didn’t rush home; he knew he would still have the house to himself for another few hours. He decided he would turn on the game, if anyone decent was playing, to help distract him from feeling so on edge. Nancy would be fine. She would call, and he would explain everything.

He pulled up the drive and had parked and exited the car before realizing there was a strange car parked three houses away. His sixth sense that made him what he was began to buzz, and he checked the plates, trying to see if they looked familiar to any on the most wanted list.

Nothing clicked, and then he realized he did know the car. It was Bob, his partner from the force's car. What was Bob doing in his neighborhood? Had there been a robbery within the last few days?

John had been so out of depth worrying about the Roarks and what they would do for that oil that he could have missed any reports.

He unlocked the front door and entered silently, cautiously, with his hand rising to rest on his holster.

He could hear muffled sounds, like perhaps someone on the telephone behind a closed door. As he passed the kitchen he checked the landline, no blinking red lights, and no green to indicate a line in use. He strode carefully along the tile floor, and kept moving towards the noise.

When he reached the door from which the sound was emanating, he froze in place, his hand still on his gun.

Now that he was right outside the source, he now was able to recognize the sounds. The door led to his and his wife’s bedroom. He kicked the door open, gun drawn, and then froze again, this time from shock.

Bob was there, indeed, and Eileen was home early from shopping.

They stopped what they were doing, which was quite loudly and obviously each other, and began making the usual excuses, but John was already turning around and heading back out to his car.

It wasn’t worth it.

Now he understood why Eileen hadn’t been talking about kids anymore. She still wanted them it seemed, just not with him.

***

He’d tossed out the plain silver band somewhere along the highway about five miles into the city. For some reason, it didn’t actually hurt as bad as he had thought it would. Instead he felt lighter. As if now he didn’t have to feel guilty about the strange dreams he’d had, and the constant war with himself over Nancy was over. A cease fire of sorts had been called.

He could hardly blame Eileen. He worked himself nearly to death; trying to finish up every loose end on any case he was handed. He wanted to ensure his retirement was well deserved. Bob wasn’t exactly a close friend, but he only felt disappointment with him, not anger.

Hartigan hated to admit it, but they both were better for each other than he and Eileen had ever been.

Bob was already retired, had two kids from a previous marriage, and only played golf on weekends. He would give her the attention she craved.

 

Before he knew it, he had reached the rundown and dangerous part of town. The streets were dimly lit, and even then, the brightest lights were signs illuminating bars and strip clubs.

It was lucky it was his day off, as he left his badge in the glove compartment. If he entered any of those businesses with it, he would be dead in minutes. The inner city hated cops.

Eventually he got tired with just driving around and burning gas, so he pulled up in front of a building with a neon red sign that read,

“Kadie’s”

Perhaps they would have cheap scotch and distracting scenery.

He parked the car and locked it carefully before entering the bar.

 

Once he stepped inside, it was like a different world.

Lights flashed, and music blared and thumped so loud it felt as if the floor was shaking. Hartigan shook his head in annoyance, and made his way towards the bar. After calling out his drink order, he started fumbling in his wallet for some cash. He had plenty, he just wanted to make sure none of the bums around him decided they’d prefer his cash was in their own wallets.

The hand that set his drink down was very tiny, with pitch black nail polish. He reached out to accept the glass, but the hand didn’t let go.

John glanced up to ask the waitress what the deal was, and was surprised to find the pretty blond who had stopped by the diner earlier that day.

She beamed and shouted hello over the music.

“You’re Shellie right?” he called back, and she nodded, gesturing to a nametag that read exactly that   in tiny letters, right above her left breast.

He averted his eyes quickly back up to her face, but she didn’t seem bothered. In fact, it seemed that the nametag was placed there on purpose.

She mouthed something he didn’t quite catch, and he cupped his ear, leaning closer to hear her as she shouted,

“Nancy’s just warming up if you want to watch, over there.” She pointed across the room, and he turned to follow where her finger was leading, his heart seeming to skip a beat.

Beneath a spotlight, writhing and gyrating to the pounding music, clad in only a sparkling silver bra and matching panties, with cowboy chaps showing off a sinfully enticing ass, was Nancy. Her arms were not completely bare, but from her wrist to her elbow, clad in black leather, sparkling here and there with bits of silver. A long white fringe on the half sleeves fluttered around her as she twirled a lasso, matching the rhythm of the music.

Hartigan felt his mouth start to drop, and he quickly snapped it shut.

Skinny little Nancy Callahan had indeed grown up, and filled out beyond his wildest dreams.

He had never imagined what curves her prim and proper diner uniform had been hiding all this time.

***

Nancy had just stepped on stage minutes before Shellie had pointed towards her. She was used to Shellie helping direct attention her way, but when she looked over to see who was turning towards her, she almost stopped moving.

John Hartigan had found her. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and she felt her face heat up, not just from the bright stage lights. She had not wanted him to find out what she did at her second job, not like this. But she couldn’t stop now; the crowd was just starting to get riled up.

As she continued to dance, she was just finishing a twirl, with her mock lasso for effect, when she noticed his seat was empty!

She glanced around, panicked, and saw he was headed for the exit. He couldn’t leave, not without giving her a chance to explain.

She made up her mind, tossing the lasso towards a sad and lonely looking man, and then she started running. It was a dangerous move in her high heeled boots, but she managed to make it to the ground safely, and she heard the whispers of protest, but ignored them, intent on stopping John.

 

He was in his own world, striding towards the door, hoping against hope he would awaken to find this was simply another perverted dream of his, when he heard a hush fall over the crowd.

He turned around to find Nancy flying towards him, and he had no choice but to lift his arms as she fell into his embrace and before he could blink, she was kissing him.

After he had blinked a few times, ensuring this was indeed happening, he pulled away, breaking the kiss. She stared up at him, eyelids drooping shut, and smiling dreamily,

“I’m so glad you’re here. You made my birthday wish come true.”

John stared at her, a million thoughts whirling through his mind, first and foremost, Nancy’s safety.

 

He had decided to leave because after recovering from the shock of seeing her in a place like this, he had spotted a horrifically familiar face across the room, huddled in a booth, also watching Nancy’s dance eagerly.

 

Roark Junior.

 

Hartigan had a bit of an inkling why he was here. Now he knew he had to get her away from Roark.

His face was tense, serious, and he hoped Nancy would listen to him,

“We have to get out of here, right this second. You’re in terrible danger.”

She shrugged, content to stay in his arms, no matter the consequences,

“Whatever you say John. I’ll go with you anywhere. Let me just go put some clothes on, okay?”

Hartigan nodded, and followed close behind as she headed backstage, nonchalantly waving off Gail who had moved close after witnessing what had occurred.

It was a rare thing for anyone to leap offstage, Gail had to worry more about the opposite happening.

***


	8. On the Run

When Nancy emerged from the back room, wrapping a large coat around herself, and beaming up at him, Hartigan turned to find the booth where he’d seen Roark empty. It didn’t feel right in his gut, but he put his arm around Nancy and guided her outside.

He was intent on walking her to his car, but she tugged on his arm

“Let’s take mine. No one will recognize us in this heap. Your undercover cop car is just too-,” she paused, before smiling apologetically, “-Too much like a cop car.”

Hartigan tried to smile at her, and shrugged, following her and pulling the passenger’s side door open for her, but she shook her head,

“It’s better if I drive. Only I can keep this heap running.”

Hartigan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but stepped back, letting her scurry over to the driver’s side, while he climbed in the other side.

 

Once they had been driving for a few miles, Nancy spoke up,

“I hope you don’t have to shoot anybody.”

Hartigan grimaced,

“I hope I don’t either. I’ve only got seven shots in my gun.”

Nancy pointed over to the glove compartment,

“In there. It’s loaded and it works. If you need backup, I could help. I’ve taken it to the range a couple times; it kicks like a mule, but gets the job done.”

Hartigan shook his head,

“No Nancy. I don’t want you to have to do that. After we get out of the city we should be fine.” He didn’t quite believe what he was telling her, as his sixth sense was buzzing like an annoyed hornets’ nest. When he chanced a look in the rearview mirror, he could have sworn he saw a black sedan with its lights off, an unsafe and suspicious choice for so late at night, following them a bit too closely to just be coincidence.

Nancy was slightly daydreaming, having only picked up the way he had said ‘we,’ and the fact she was alone with him in her car, headed for who knew where, but she didn’t even mind, as long he was beside her, she felt safe.

She gulped, and as the silence grew long and uncomfortable, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut,

“John, there’s so much I want to say to you. I know it’s wrong to feel how I do when you’re so happily married, and I hoped it would go away with time, but being unable to write to you, and seeing you every day at work took its toll. I think—“

Even as Hartigan turned to look at her, confusion, masked surprise and possibly a slight inkling of understanding swept across his face, a sudden glare of headlights in the rearview mirror distracted him, and seconds later a bullet pierced the windshield, and Nancy shrieked in surprise.

The car jerked to the side a bit, but she got it back under control, as Hartigan twisted in his seat, rolling the window down rapidly,

“Keep the car steady!”

He looked backwards to see their pursuer was indeed who he’d feared, Junior Roark.

***

After a high speed chase and shootout, resulting in a spectacular shot taking out Junior’s car, Hartigan told Nancy to pull over.

She kept driving, slightly panicked, until he shouted,

“Pull over Nancy! Stop the car. We have to confirm the kill.”

She nodded, finally hearing him through the roaring in her ears.

“Right. Right. Stop the car. Confirm the kill.”

She did as he instructed, and once the car was still, she stopped shaking.

“Sorry. I guess I got a little rattled.”

Hartigan looked over at her, meeting her gaze for the first time since they’d gotten in the car,

“It’s okay. You did great. Now, sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Nancy’s hand shot out automatically, gripping his arm tightly,

“No please, let me stay close. Nothing can hurt me when I’m with you.”

Hartigan looked down at her hand, and his expression looked pained,

“Alright, but hurry.”

When they reached the scene of the mutilated car, debris and blood were everywhere, but there was no sign of a body. The car was empty, which Hartigan confirmed carefully before turning his back on it.

“Where could they have gone?” Nancy asked her eyes wide with fear. She looked so young standing there, long sandy blond hair blowing the bitter cold night air, gazing at him, so trusting.

Hartigan shrugged, but remained quiet. She had no idea who was after her, much less why. He needed to get her somewhere safe where they could talk, and tell her everything.

“I don’t know, but we better get out of here.”

The sound of sirens wailing could be heard in the distance. Any other time he would have welcomed the sound, now, it was something to be avoided at all costs. Who knew how high up this went? Who knew if he would still have a job tomorrow after this accident?

***

Nancy pulled the car up in front of a small motel, about 50 miles outside of the city, and they quickly headed inside. Hartigan kept her close as he paid at the front desk, and when they reached the room, only then did he let go of her.

Whatever she had been about to say in the car, he needed to set her straight.

“Listen, Nancy. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

She sat down beside him on the couch, still huddled in her large coat, eyes wide and unblinking as she focused on him,

“Is it about what I said? Or the kiss? I wasn’t lying. It was all I wanted for my birthday. Crazy as this night has been, it’s the most exciting night of my life. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m not sorry for kissing you.” She made as if to move in closer, possibly to attempt another such embrace, but he held up his hand, halting her movements.

Hartigan reached his other hand up to pinch his temples, hoping she wouldn’t say anymore until he’d told her about the serious danger they were in.

“Listen! That’s not important right now.” He tried not to notice how her face fell, and continued on,

“The person who chased after us? That was Senator Roark’s son. I have serious cause to believe the Roark’s killed your family. I know that it was not an accident. I checked on some files, and stumbled upon a confidential folder that revealed the Roark’s know something about your land, the land beneath your home, that makes it infinitely valuable.

There’s a small ocean of oil beneath that house. If all of the Callahan’s were to die, the city inherits the property, and by default, the oil. They’ve let you live long enough so that you can claim ownership, then they’ll kill you to take it from you. The problem is you didn’t even know about until right now. For some reason, they didn’t care. They still let you live this long.

Now Junior’s come after you, he was at the club, watching you, then he followed us after we left, and I’ve a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t to ask you on a proper date. That creep would have a rap sheet a mile long if his daddy didn’t cover up all his sick crimes.”

 

Hartigan sat back against the couch, exhaustion overcoming him all of a sudden. He watched as Nancy’s face lost all its color, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it, speaking first,

“Thank you for telling me. I truly had no idea. It makes so much sense though. I always felt as if the Roark’s didn’t really care what happened to me. If they had believed in justice, they would have hunted down and caught the person who killed my family. Now I know why they didn’t bother. It was probably someone within the government. Or a dedicated employee who didn’t care whose blood they spilled to follow their orders.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and John’s face became blurry in front of her. She felt rather than saw him put his hand over her chilled ones, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of them.

Nancy blinked, and two perfect tears fell onto her cheeks, stinging all the way down. When he reached up to brush them away, he couldn’t keep his eyes from slipping down to look at her lips. They were a light shade of pink, flushed from fear and something else. He quickly moved his gaze back to her eyes, only to find her looking at him in the same manner.

As she leaned in closer he felt himself freeze, unable to fight her. She shifted right into his arms and kissed him. Different from how she had at the club. Not rushed, or hurried, or urgent. Insistent, rough, and somehow still painfully sweet.

His hands moved to cup her head and slip around her shoulders, pulling her flush to him.

When his brain caught up with his body, he tried to break the kiss off by gently biting her plump bottom lip. It only seemed to spur her on, so he pulled away further, his hands moving to his sides and forming into fists.

Hartigan spoke up in the awkward silence, sounding gruff and as tired as he felt,

“We should get some rest. I don’t know what we’re going to do tomorrow. Let’s just hope all this blows over.”

She looked over at him, her eyes lighting up again, and her thoughts shuffled around. She forgot the danger they were in for a moment, in favor of listening to her desires, which the kiss had only fueled further,

“Sleep with me.”

She felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment at the boldness of her own words as soon as they had left her mouth, but never glanced away from him. Her lips still felt swollen, and she secretly relished the fact he had gotten a bit rough at the end.

Hartigan gulped, and shook his head,

“Don’t talk like that. I’m old enough to be your father. Your grandfather even.”

She moved back towards him again, her hands trying to ensnare him again. One made its way about his neck, one traced lazily down his chest, so that she could feel his heartbeat speeding up, and she forced him to look her in the eyes,

“But you’re not. I love you John. I’ve always loved you. I’ve never had the chance to tell you, much less the guts.”

 

Hartigan stared at the carpeted floor, unable to meet her heated gaze,

“I know. I think I’ve always known. But it’s not right. Even though I’m going through trouble with my wife, this is just not right. It’s worse, there’s wrong and there’s wrong, then there’s this.”

He stood up before she could get any closer to him, and before he could succumb to her beautiful eyes and perfect lips, wearing that innocently admiring smile and uttering forbidden words, wants and dangerous wandering hands,

“I need to get cleaned up. You go get some sleep. Alone.”

Nancy rose from the couch, and followed him as he moved towards the bathroom, her eyes wide with fear,

“Wait, what if something should happen?”

He turned to look at her, his eyes sad,

“I’ll only be a few feet away. If you see anything out of place, just come get me.”


	9. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this was the challenging part to write...
> 
>  
> 
> i hate being mean to characters even if it is canon stuff

The freezing water numbed the ache in his shoulder muscles, and Hartigan willed himself not to think of the traumatized twenty-one year old in the other room, who had willing confessed her love for him only a few moments ago.

Too late.

When he heard a rustling outside the shower curtain, he felt the muscles in his lower back tense,

“Nancy! What is it?”

But the hand that reached through the curtain, gripping a large semi-automatic weapon was not the delicate smooth one of Nancy Callahan, but one that led to the furious and blood smeared face of the last person on earth Hartigan wanted to see.

“Junior.”

“We meet again, you piece of shit cop. You almost killed me, you know that? Wait until my father hears about this. But don’t worry. You won’t have to answer to him, you can answer to me. Now move it!”

Hartigan raised his hands, and moved slowly outside the shower, still soaked but mindful of the tile floor and his wet feet; the fact one wrong step could send him to the ground, making him even more defenseless than he was.

He walked out to the small living room to see Nancy, held between two thugs, one very short and slim and the other, very fat and tall.

“Klubb, Shlubb, is it done? Is she out?” Junior snarled, and the short man nodded, gesturing with a needle in his hand, which he had just pulled out of Nancy’s neck.

Hartigan watched helpless as they hoisted her into a sitting position, but she could barely put up any resistance. Whatever they had just injected into her neck, it was clearly paralyzing her.

“You sick Bastard. That’s brave of you. Make it impossible for your prey to fight back. That must make you feel so strong. But you’re not. You’re a coward.”

Junior’s face twisted into a frown,

“I don’t care what you call me. I’m going to take what’s most precious to you. Your sweet adoring Nancy. She’s gotten a bit old for my taste, but I can forgive that, just this one time. She’s still quite pretty. It’ll be worth it to hear her scream. You’ll die knowing I touched her in ways you couldn’t imagine. Then she’ll die, and I’ll get all the money from that oil under her house.”

Hartigan knew he would regret having said what he had, but in the end, he couldn’t have stopped himself.

He would have sworn he saw Nancy’s expression change slightly from stricken with fear to defiant for a split second, but he couldn’t be sure.

The first punch to his gut took his breath away, and he doubled over, unable to block the second blow, aimed at his lower back and kidneys.

He fell to the carpet, coughing and wheezing, feeling fear sinking into his bones for the first time since he’d been in the army.

Through the haze of pain, he could feel the two thugs pulling him off the ground, manipulating his body, and arranging a mock noose to hang from the ceiling fan. They were going to make it look like he had committed suicide. They tied his hands and feet together, and it was almost annoying. People who killed themselves couldn’t also bind themselves up as well.

The pain was barely enough to distract from the embarrassment that he felt as he was tied up, still naked. As he grew dizzy from lack of oxygen, he also felt an unpleasant side effect in his groin.

He was nude and painfully hard, in Nancy’s presence, in the worst possible situation. The fact they had also forced her out of her club wear and into some white silky lace slip, most likely for Junior’s sick pleasure, didn’t help one bit.

***

“Let’s go you idiots. Get her into the car!”

Hartigan heard Junior shouting orders, as if from a distance, though he could still make out the sight of him in the room.

White spots began to appear in his vision as he heard the sound of a car starting, and driving away.

So this how it was going to end? Nancy captured, drugged, and being taken off by his worst nightmare, a sick, spoiled, and perverted creep drunk with his own family’s power.

Was he just going to give up? Choke to death in some shitty motel room, soaked and chilled to the bone, naked as the day he was born?

“NO!”

His final coherent thought was to try to move, try and swing backwards, kick the window, break it, and use it to escape.

“Keep your neck tight old man. Keep it tight God-dammit!” he thought furiously to himself as he started kicking his legs, within a few moments he heard the thump of his feet hitting the window. One more good kick . . .

“Yes!” he grunted out, hearing and feeling the glass shatter. Somehow he managed to grip a large enough shard, lifted it, and gripped it with his bound hands, not even noticing the new stinging pain from the sharp edges.

***

Once he had gotten dried off and dressed, he ran outside, hoping to tell they hadn’t taken her car as well.

To his relief it still sat in the motel parking lot, smoke coming from the front. Clearly they had tried to start it, and true to Nancy’s word, it had died without her touch.

He leapt inside the passenger seat, pulled open the glove compartment, and muttered a quick thank you to whoever was watching over him. Her gun was still there, heavy in his hand with its full load.

Now, if he could just find her.

As he stumbled about the parking lot, looking for an unlocked car, a thought struck him. While they had been driving here, he hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention the area, to the landmarks. This motel was only a few miles from the Roark Family farm. That had to be where Junior was taking Nancy.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself, trying to stave off the freezing wind, and he began to run.

“I’m coming Nancy. Just hold on. Don’t scream.”

***

The horrifying part about Junior’s un-convicted crimes Hartigan had chosen not to tell Nancy, fearing it could possibly scare her worse than the fact she had a target placed on her back.

Junior was more than the typical perverted power-mad guy. He preferred young girls, and before he did his worst and then had his thug’s dispose of the bodies, he always made them scream. Only then would he abuse them. They had to scream, or else he would get creative.

They always screamed.

***


	10. Too Late?

Nancy bit her lip, and squeezed her eyes shut; but before she could stop them, tears began leaking out as she heard the crack of the whip, seconds before it made contact with her bare back.

It stung, and even felt as if it might have drawn blood, but she stayed silent.

She had regained her senses and the ability to move only after she had been tied to a strong thick rope which hung from the rafters of the barn. She knew exactly where she was.

 

The Roark family farm.

 

Moonlight illuminated the straw covered floor, and she could swear she saw dark brown stains of what looked horribly like blood on the concrete underneath the hay.

 

It was a place that was mentioned with a happy lilt to one’s voice, where the power family of the great city of Basin went to unwind.

 

Now she had an idea of just the sort of things they did for fun.

 

Junior was growing rapidly impatient, yelling all sorts of insults at her, hoping to draw a response, but she ignored him.

 

Within a few lashes of the whip, the skimpy slip the two brutes had placed her in had fallen to the barn floor in tatters.

She tried not to focus too much on the fact she was naked, and the fact the John could very well be dead, and not coming to save her.

Junior felt the need to reiterate her thoughts a split second later.

 

“Your hero’s dead. He died a pathetic coward. And you’re going to die soon too. But not until I’ve had my fun. You’ll scream. They always scream. Even if it takes all night, I’ll break you.”  


Nancy huffed, and gritted her teeth, pulling herself up and around to face him, ignoring the leer he sent her as the moonlight elucidated her nakedness,

“You’re pathetic. You’re the coward. You can’t get it up unless I scream. You have my word I will not give you that pleasure. Do your worst.” She’d come to the rapid conclusion of what class of psycho he was simply by the fact he favored using such a painful whip.

 

Junior raised his eyebrows at her, and chuckled darkly,

“Do my worst? You think this is the worst I can do? You think the whip is shocking? That was foreplay. Just wait, while I go get out my knives. You’ll be sorry you made me angry.”

 

At that Nancy swallowed, and suddenly she wasn’t sure anymore. She could stand the sight of blood; however, if it became the sight of the straw covered floor splattered with her own blood, she couldn’t say how long she could hold out.

 

Her eyes fell shut, and she turned away from him, praying silently that John was indeed still alive, and on his way.

***

Hartigan staggered, and fell to the ground, clutching his chest, wherein a sudden fire had erupted, at least that’s how it felt.

 

He knew better. It was most likely a heart attack. His left arm had gone numb as well, but he had been trying to chalk it up to the cold night wind. He hadn’t seen this much excitement since his early years in the police academy. He coughed, and winced as he pulled away his hand, and saw the red tint to the phlegm.

 

No matter. Nancy was still in danger. That was all that mattered.

He spotted a couple guards as he grew closer to the farm, and he could see a light shining across the grounds outside the large red barn.

 

He took out the first guard with his bare hands, twisting quickly until he heard the telltale snap of his neck.

It was a nasty way to kill a man, but at least it was quiet.

Hartigan began walking towards the barn, his mind so full of only one thought, the fact no scream had yet pierced the night air, that he missed the sound of footsteps behind him.

This time the fire burning in his chest was real, a single gunshot. But it had hit far to the right of his heart, merely a flesh wound.

Before the guard had even the hope of a chance of firing again, he was dead, and Nancy’s gun was smoking in Hartigan’s palm.

 

Well, now the truth was out. He kept walking though, ignoring the throbbing ache in his right shoulder.

 

When he reached the barn, he pushed the door open, all thought of caution and stealth abandoned. The sight that met his eyes was petrifying, Junior was holding an extremely large blade to Nancy’s neck, and she was holding onto his arm for dear life, her eyes wide with terror.

“Let the girl go.”

Hartigan never wavered, and he followed every step that Junior took with the gun, until he pressed the knife into Nancy’s neck so hard she opened her mouth, gasping. “Drop the gun Hartigan!” Junior screeched.

 

He saw a trickle of blood start to run down her collarbone, and he put his hands down, his finger drifting off the trigger.

 

Junior cackled, and let go of Nancy, tossing her to the ground,

 

“Look at you. You can’t hardly lift that cannon. My guards will finish you off in no time. Then I can get back to work.”

 

He moved closer, the knife extended high, and Hartigan collapsed to the hay strewn floor. He met Nancy’s gaze from across the distance of a few feet or so, and he saw her mouth noiselessly,

 

“John, no.”

 

Her back was numb from the pain of the whip, and her elbows were sure to be bruised from the fall, but all she could think was, if she had the strength, she would have torn Junior limb from limb. She could see the blood stain spreading on John’s right shoulder, and she had held back a scream as he fell to the ground.

 

When Junior was barely a foot away from him, Hartigan leapt up, his own switchblade appearing from nowhere, and he stabbed it into Junior’s gut, muttering to him,

“Sucker.”

Junior gasped in pain, and fell to his knees, blood spilling from his stomach to turn the hay red.

Hartigan didn’t hesitate, and he began to rain blow after blow onto him until he was simply pounding wet chunks of muscle and bone into the concrete.

 

His hands were covered in Junior’s blood, and he stopped to stare at them, slightly dazed and still coming down from an adrenaline high. The concrete abruptly began to feel cold and hard on his knees.

He felt soft hands on his face, and turned to see Nancy, gazing down at him in admiration.

“You did it. You finished him. It’s okay. I didn’t scream.”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet beside him, nodding,

“You did good Nancy, you grew up strong.”

***

Hartigan tried not to look at Nancy’s blood streaked back as he put his coat around her, apologizing for the fact it was soaked in his own blood on the right side. She shrugged and only pulled it closer. He didn’t even feel the ache from the bullet wound anymore, he was so relieved he had gotten to her in time.

 

He walked her over to the car in which she’d been brought to the farm, a stunning black Lamborghini. He put his arms around her, pulling her close, one last time. He inhaled deeply, the scent of vanilla and cashmere from her hair and soft skin an intoxicating mix that made his thoughts fuzzy. The cold night air quickly brought him back to the present when she stepped away, turning to face him.

 

“Go on Nancy. Get out of here. You’ll be safe now.”

 

She turned to look up at him, and he could see the hurt and unspoken plea in her eyes,

“Come with me. We’ll be outlaws together.”

 

Hartigan shook his head,

 

“I can’t. I’ve got to stay here, and bring Senator Roark to justice. He’s got to pay for what he’s done. With my testimony, and the evidence I found, I’ll be able to put him behind bars and out of power for a long time.”

 

Nancy reached up a warm hand to stroke his face, and tried to smooth the frown lines above his eyes. Her touch lingered on the ‘X’ shaped scar above his right eyebrow. She could tell by the way he refused to look directly at her he was lying. He intended to do nothing of the sort. What he was claiming was impossible. Tears filled her eyes, and the harsh cold wind caused them to sting as they threatened to fall. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t.

Slowly, gently, Nancy brought her other hand up to cup his cheek, and when he didn’t flinch or move away, she threw caution to the winds, stepped close, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him.

As soon as her lips met his, Hartigan’s thoughts and plans became scattered. His arms slid around her waist and he deepened the kiss. It was like she was breathing life into him. When she pulled back and he was forced to look into her eyes, he realized the truth. He loved her too. He couldn’t desert her. He had to go with her. He had to keep protecting her. No matter what.

“Please?” she whispered, and he found himself nodding.

“Let’s go.”

He waited until she was safely inside the car, before striding around to take the driver’s seat, as he turned the key, shifting it into gear, he looked over at her,

“Is there anything you need from your house before we leave this place for good?”

 

Nancy nodded, her blond hair moving across her shoulders, and a few strands fell into her eyes, but she brushed them away impatiently,

“Yes. Shellie. I need to say goodbye to her. Also, I should leave her the house. It’s perfectly fine. Dwight will take good care of her. She’ll be safe.”

 

Hartigan grunted in disapproval, but he couldn’t deny it was a good plan.

 

It was something the Roark’s would never see coming.

 


	11. Epilogue

 

Shellie was slowly polishing the counter of the bar, stopping every so often to become lost in a day dream. Actually, make that simply a half awake dream, as the day had long ended.

Dwight was strolling out from his office, pulling on his faithful worn black leather coat, the one that fell down to brush his knees, when he caught sight of her. Under the bright fluorescent lights, with her golden hair all mussed and no longer in its tidy braid, she looked rather like a fallen angel.

He knew Gail was waiting on him, eager to take him out and show him around some of the seedier spots of town, that she was keen to explore, but he couldn’t resist Shellie’s silent call.

He walked over, cautiously, wary of the possibility of being slapped, and stood against the bar,

“Last call over?” he asked quietly, and Shellie started, jumping slightly, and clasping a hand over her chest, the lemon oil scented rag in hand.

“Dwight! Jeezus. You gave me a scare. I thought you had gone.”

He shrugged, leaning forward so that a few strands of black hair fell across his forehead, and Shellie hoped he couldn’t hear the way her heartbeat stuttered with the movement.

“I’m on my way. I was just going to check up on you. You’ll probably be leaving soon won’t you?”

Shellie frowned, and her bright green eyes scrunched in confusion.

“Why would I be going anywhere?”

Dwight smirked,

“Don’t you think I read the papers? You’ve inherited quite a chunk of money from that oil sale to the city. Lucky and awful nice of our Nancy to leave it to you.”

Shellie blushed,

“Oh. That. Well. I thought I might get myself a car. Then I guess I’ll see.”

Dwight shook his head,

“You know there’s more than enough money for that. C’mon, be straight. Why would you be interested in sticking around with a bunch of losers like me and Gail?”

Shellie shrugged,

“Maybe because I’m just as much a loser as you. Besides, don’t put yourself down so hard. You could be a real gentleman, maybe with a haircut, and a nicer outfit.” She gazed at him thoughtfully, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting her to be so insightful. It wasn’t the money she’d gotten.

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

He found himself blurting it out before he could stop himself. Suddenly roaming the town with Gail didn’t sound so appealing, he wanted to go someplace quiet, maybe with soft music playing, and talk with Shellie.

She stopped what she was doing, and froze. As if making sure it wasn’t a dream, she reached down and pinched herself.

“Ouch.” Shellie muttered, and watched as the skin turned white and then pink. It had hurt. This was happening.

Dwight had gotten closer while she hadn’t been paying attention, and when she turned to reply in the affirmative, she found herself right next to him.

She gulped slowly, and smiled weakly,

“Okay.” Her voice was almost a squeak, and Dwight grinned.

“Great.” He breathed in reply, and leaned closer, his eyes falling shut as he seemed to smell her hair.

“What are you doing?” she asked hesitantly.

“Just memorizing your scent, in case I ever go blind, I’ll know where you are.” Dwight smiled lazily at her, watching as she pondered the seriousness of his excuse.

She smelled like lemon seed oil and warm honey.

His presence was starting to affect her and she took an involuntary step back, as he towered over her.

“I’ll just go get changed yeah?”

Dwight nodded,

“Sounds good. I’ll get the car started.”

Shellie set the rag down gently and scuttled off to the back room. Dwight quickly strolled outside, telling a reluctant Gail that their plans had changed. She shrugged and patted his shoulder gently,

“It’s okay Dwight. I can see how much she likes you. She was here first, so I can’t fight that.”

Dwight frowned, his dark brows knitting in confusion,

“What are you talking about?”

Gail smiled sympathetically at him,

“Honey, your bartender has a serious crush on you. She’s got it bad. Whenever I see her not working, she’s watching you, or looking for you. When she sees you, her face lights up like it’s Christmas. She seems like a nice girl. I wish you two the best of luck.”

Dwight had numbly felt her touch his shoulder, but after she had started talking, a roaring had filled his ears.

Could it be true? Sweet Shellie liked him? All this time he had felt as if she was indifferent, almost scared of him.

He pulled his coat closer to him, trying not to shiver at the deeply cold bite of the night air. He decided to go back inside to check on Shellie.

He returned to the bar to find her, standing at the counter, tying up her wild blond curls into a ponytail, and he noticed that her face did indeed light up as she caught sight of him.

“Ready to go?”

Dwight nodded,

“Yep. Do you have a warm coat? It’s gotten chilly out there.”

Shellie motioned to her black jacket, with the fur lined neck.

“It was Nancy’s but she left it behind, so I decided I’d adopt it.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Shellie beamed and put her arm through his, surprising him.

“Where are we going?”

Dwight exhaled slowly,

“No idea. But anywhere but here.”

Shellie was fine with that. As long as she had her dark knight, she was happy.


	12. Second Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because reasons that's why...

Nancy’s eyelids fluttered shut as his rough calloused hands stroked along the inside of her stomach and slowly drifted down past soft curves to caress her thighs.

Her blond eyebrows met in a frown as he completely skipped past her aching core. She had been having a nice dream, wherein she had been touching herself alone in a bathroom stall before leaving with him, having been driven crazy by the sight of him in the club. Being awoken by maddeningly delicate fingertips when she wanted hard and firm touches had riled her up quickly.

She bit her lip, and opened her eyes, turning over to catch John watching her. He froze his movements, and looked as guilty as a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

 “If you’re going to wake me up, you could do a better job.” She smirked, and he shrugged, pulled his hand back, and tried to look innocent.

“I was just making sure you weren’t too cold.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, glancing down at herself.

 Nancy was naked except for his light blue dress shirt under the same sheet as he. He had insisted on being the gentleman and kept his red plaid boxers on. John refused to sleep completely naked with her.

During the night he had unconsciously moved closer to her, spooning around her body protectively. He had moved away when he felt her stir slightly, whatever had occurred in her dream causing her to try to grind against his front. He had hoped touching her would have soothed her back into sleep, but it appeared to have had the opposite effect.

John held himself back, hoping she wouldn’t notice the fact he was still aroused from her movements. The fact he could nearly feel the heat radiating off of her under the sheet made his excuse extremely flimsy.

He coughed, doing his best to cover up his nervousness,

“I could go get another blanket if you’d like.”

Nancy rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t see,

“I’m not cold. In fact I’m a bit too warm. So hot. It’s like I’ve got a fever.” She twisted around and met his concerned gaze. He lifted a hand to feel her forehead, and she caught it in her own, kissing the inside of his wrist, and he shivered.

“Nancy, please. I’m breaking every rule in the book letting you share my bed, don’t make me feel worse.”

She shook her head,

“John. Don’t be naïve. I know you want me as much as I want you. You wouldn’t have agreed to this if you didn’t. You said you loved me. Now prove it.”

 She wriggled closer and snaked her arms around him, deftly moving him over so she was perched atop him. As she slipped a leg over him, straddling his boxer clad thighs; he tried to shift so she wouldn’t brush against him.

She figured out what he was doing a split second before he succeeded. With an impish grin, she moved her hand down directly in front of her to reach into his boxers, wrapping a hand around him. As she tensed her muscles and rubbed herself against his leg like a cat in heat, she carefully squeezed and stroked him in time to the movement of her thighs.

John gasped and his expression changed from that of about to chastise her to relaxed and resigned.

She moved her hand slowly, and carefully, feeling as every muscle in his body tensed and relaxed with every movement.

He reached up to stroke her bare hip and squeezed gently, and she stopped moving her hand.

He groaned in frustration, his need almost painful, and she smiled,

“Now it’s your turn. Finish what you started before.”

She slid over and writhed against the sheets, lifting up his shirt and flashing her perfect breasts before pulling it down so that the hem just barely covered her sex.

“Touch me.” she whispered, and he couldn’t stop himself.

John turned over, facing her, and leaned down to kiss her, as his hand slowly caressed over her stomach and down to the small thatch of blond curls above her core. He just brushed a thumb over her when he felt her moan into his mouth. He captured her bottom lip between his teeth, and felt like a deviant as he bit down gently, but it only made her strain her hips towards his hand, trying to gain more friction.

“Please.” She begged, and he slowly inserted a finger inside her warmth, feeling her muscles clench around him. He moved his thumb against her clit as his finger pumped in and out of her, eased by her wetness.

Nancy could feel the tingling in the pit of her stomach; she was close, so close. The ache was unbearable, until with a twist of his fingers and one final swirl of his thumb she felt herself fall over the edge.

She gasped aloud and the sound was swallowed by his lips on hers.

The shaking subsided and he pulled his fingers away, slicked with her arousal, able to still feel her quickened heartbeat. He was still painfully hard, but watching her come undone beneath him had been well worth it.

She blinked up at him, and smiled dreamily,

“Thank you for making my dream come true.” She knew he’d catch the double entendre in her words.

John gave her a crooked grin, amused at her ridiculous pun,

“No. Thank you. You’re the dream come true for an old man like me.”

Nancy frowned,

“Stop that. You’re not old. Just experienced. Perhaps wiser.”

He shrugged, unable to argue that point.

“Now, lay still, if you can.”

His eyes widened as she slowly made her way back down his torso, her small hands tugging on his boxers, and her touch threatening to drive him over the edge before it even reached his straining erection.

“I’ll try.” He managed to gasp out as he felt and saw her pull the waistband down and move to take him in her mouth. Her lips enveloped the tip and he closed his eyes tightly, as her tongue licked him, laving at him like an ice cream cone. He didn’t want to know where she had learned to do that, but he was almost too far gone to care.

When she pulled his cock further into her mouth and the warmth of her throat began to envelop him, and she sucked in her cheeks, humming slightly, the vibrations pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Nancy. . .” he tried to gasp out, to get her to stop, he didn’t want to come in her mouth, but she ignored him, moving both hands up to stroke him further, one hand drifting back to gently and tentatively touch his sack.

Before he could stop himself, he jerked forward, thrusting against her, and she took him in as far as she could. When she glanced up and his eyes met hers, that was his undoing.

He groaned and tried not to hurt her throat with his thrusts as he rode out his orgasm.

After he had finished, and he lay on the sheets, feeling boneless from the waist down, she pulled away, and his now softened member fell out of her mouth with a pop. She sat up and grinned, licking her lips, and she brought a hand up to wipe her chin of any excess.

John was at a loss for words.

“Why didn’t you let me—?” she shrugged,

“It’s okay. You taste pretty good actually. No bother.”

He would have looked rather shocked at her words, but he was too tired. Exhaustion had suddenly overcome him, and she looked as he felt. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one worn out by a good hard release.

Nancy hummed and snuggled closer to him, and he put his arm around her, nearly half asleep, and still in a daze, wondering if this was all simply a dream.

Would he awaken in the morning, still next to Eileen, and having to look forward to pure torture by seeing Nancy on his lunch break? He hoped not.

Nancy could feel the tension seeping through him, even as she began to drift off.

She traced her fingertip over his chest, making a lazy circle around his heart,

“Don’t worry so much. You’ll go gray.” Her voice mumbled, drawing him from his haphazard and paranoid thoughts.

Before his eyelids grew heavy and fell completely shut of their own accord, he could have sworn he heard her whisper,

“I love you.”

Her soft warmth was still by his side the next morning, when the sun broke through the break in the curtain of the small motel room.

Hartigan was relieved to find everything hadn’t been just his imagination, and when Nancy woke up and stretched, he realized perhaps things weren’t quite so hopeless. They could start over somewhere, together.


End file.
